


Just Like the Ones I Used to Know (Where the Treetops Glisten)

by Anolty



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Story through time, just kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anolty/pseuds/Anolty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky may not have perfect lives, but they've spent them together and that's all that matters. </p><p>(Group of 5 stories about different Christmases between Steve and Bucky, from 1929 to 2014)<br/>(Stucky secret Santa gift for summersteve over on tumblr!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like the Ones I Used to Know (Where the Treetops Glisten)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mtothedestiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtothedestiel/gifts).



> So this is my first fic posted on AO3 and I'm a little nervous about it. I've posted writing on the imagine-stucky blog, which I co-admin but never something this big. I wrote this as a gift for summersteve on tumblr, so go check her out!

1929

“Steve.” Something, no _someone_ , is knocking harshly at Steve’s window. “Stevie. C’mon buddy, wake up. It’s freezing out here!” Steve groans into his pillow, because it’s early in the morning, and he knows this because there isn’t even that much light shining in through the window, and Steve doesn’t care about anything except sweet, blissful, sleep.

“What.” He tries to add some sort of authority to his voice, but (As he previously stated) it’s too early in the morning so Steve’s voice sounds heavy and tired instead of the strong deep tone he’d intended. He attempts to roll over on his bed, but the mound of blankets covering his small frame just tangle even more around him and he groans in frustration. Despite this, Steve is still able to turn his head enough to see the person cruel enough to disturb his sleep. For a second, Steve is confused, because he thinks he sees Bucky at his window, but that’s wrong because today is supposed to be Christmas, and if it _is_ Christmas, then Bucky should be at the chapel on Bedford Street with the nuns and the rest of the kids from the orphanage. So, if it’s Christmas (and Steve is pretty certain it is) then why is Bucky here?

Steve rolls out of bed slowly, as to not confuse his half-asleep limbs, and stomps his way over towards the small window in his bedroom. Bucky is standing outside of it, smiling at him. Steve is still confused. Nevertheless, he pulls the window open and it makes a creaking sound that probably woke his ma but Steve is too distracted by the big smile on Bucky’s face and the wad of newspaper in his hand to worry over the offensive noise.  

“Aren’t you supposed to be at church? Ya know, with the nuns and the other boys from the home?” Steve never calls it an orphanage to Bucky’s face, because that just reminds them both that Bucky has to share a room, and sometimes a bed, with boys he doesn’t know because his parents died a while back and his sister was sent to some home for girls that Bucky doesn’t know about or get to visit.

“Mother Elizabeth took me to the early session because I told her I had to help your ma shovel snow off the front porch.” Bucky smirks as he climbs through the window. With his view of Brooklyn now unobstructed, Steve can see that it’s been snowing outside for a while. The street and other buildings are covered in the white powder. It’s too early for any kids to be playing outside, but some adults are shuffling around in their coats and scarves.

“We live in an apartment, Buck. We don’t have a front porch.” Steve frowns when Bucky pulls his scarf off and wraps it around Steve’s neck. It’s a little damp from the snow, but Steve doesn’t mind.

“Yeah Stevie, I know.” Bucky pulls off his shoes and flops down on the bed, dragging Steve’s favorite quilt over his shoulders.  

“You lied to a nun?” Steve accuses, moving to sit next to his friend. Bucky just nods at him and pulls him under the quilt, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders and laying down. 

Steve doesn’t complain. It’s pretty warm.

When they wake up again two hours later, it’s because Steve’s ma has discovered that it isn’t just Steve covered in the pile of blankets.

“I see we have a visitor,” She says, slowly peeling blankets off of the two and folding them on top of the dresser next to the door.

“Good morning, Mrs. Rogers” Bucky may lie to the nuns but he’s never so much as glared at Steve’s mom. She’s never told on him for some of the bad stuff she knows he’s done, and she lets him visit Steve when sickness gets the best of him.

“Hello James, merry Christmas.” She smiled sweetly at the two boys, and Bucky’s eyes lit up as he remembered the newspaper covered package. Scrambling off the bed, he pulled it from underneath his coat. He handed it to Steve, who frowned at the present.

“But Bucky, I didn’t get you anything.” He murmured quietly, feeling bad that his friend had been so thoughtful and would get nothing in return.

“S’okay, pal. Let’s go play in the snow! Bet some of the other kids are having a snowball fight we can join.” Steve smiled and grabbed the scarf his mother handed him, following his friend outside.

It turned out that practically the whole neighborhood was outside. The younger kids were building snowmen and making snow angels, while the older kids had begun an intense snowball fight, with teams and bases and actual strategy. When they had joined the game, one of the older boys, a kid with dark brown hair and strong arms, had told Steve that he should go build a snowman with the other kids too small to play. Bucky had walked right up to the jerk and shoved snow down the front of his coat, so much that the kid had to go home and change clothes.   

They had played outside until Steve’s asthma starting acting up from all the running and the dry air, heading back to Steve’s apartment. Once inside, they peeled off their damp clothes and replaced them with warm ones. Mrs. Roger’s had even been kind enough to use their scarce supply of chocolate and milk to make them a cup of hot cocoa to share.

The hospital had made enough profit this year to give their employees, even the small jobs, such as nurses and secretaries, a small Christmas bonus. Steve’s mom had gotten a check for seven dollars, and although she questioned how the hospital had managed to give out money with the depression happening, she used the money to buy a Christmas tree and some presents to put underneath it. The tree wasn’t very impressive, it had holes between the branches and some of the sprigs were starting to brown, but the Christmas lights and popcorn garlands that she and Steve had put on it made the tree look wonderful in Steve and Bucky’s eyes.

There were a total of five presents under the tree, if Bucky’s poorly wrapped one was counted. Like his, two other gifts were wrapped in newspaper, one very neatly and the other looking more like Bucky’s, with wrinkled paper and torn edges, which meant that it was probably Steve’s present for his mother. It was a red knitted scarf, made with thick soft yarn.

“Mrs. Danner down the hall knit it,” Steve’s voice was muffled by his mother’s hug. “She was selling them for fifty cents.” Mrs. Rogers smacked a kiss on his cheek, which Steve made a show of rubbing off. Her present for Steve, which had been the one neatly wrapped in newspaper (No surprise there), was a nice pair of grey gloves. His current blue pair had a big hole in the thumb on the left one, and a small hole in the palm of the right.

“Open your present, punk.” Bucky had told him, handing off the last gift wrapped in newspaper. It was a set of colored pencils, the good kind. Steve had a set of them, but they were wearing down quickly and he had lost the brown, so now every time he drew someone with brown hair he had to use the grey of his pencil to color it in. Steve hugged him, saying that he would draw Bucky a picture of the Ferris wheel Coney Island with them.

The last two presents were wrapped in actual wrapping paper, with red and white stripes like a candy cane.

“These are from Santa,” Mrs. Rogers had told them, “This one is for Steve, and this one is for Bucky.” Bucky was honestly a little surprised that Santa had brought a present to Steve’s house for him. But, he figured, if the guy was as magical as everybody claimed, then he must have known that Bucky was going to spend Christmas with Steve. The thing was, Santa had already brought Bucky a present at the home. He, along with most other boys, had gotten three new pairs of socks. It wasn’t a very fun gift, but Bucky was still thrilled, since they were his only pairs right now without holes in them. Bucky was going to mention this to Steve, but he didn’t want to make the other kid feel like Santa had thought he wasn’t good this year, because Bucky knew that Steve had been a thousand times better than he had been.

Steve opened his present first, and it was a set of tinker toys. He smiled, telling Bucky that he could come over and play with them whenever he wanted. When it was Bucky’s turn to open his present, he opened it very carefully. Hopefully he could keep the wrapping paper and use it next year when he gave Steve a gift, so he didn’t have to use newspaper like the other boys. His present ended up being two things, a toy car that he had seen in a store window down the street, and a thing envelope. Inside the envelope was a letter from his sister, Becca. She said that she got moved to a home in New Jersey, and that the ladies there were very nice and helped her with her schoolwork when it got too hard. Becca had wrote that she was sorry she hadn’t been able to write, but in her last home paper had been scarce and the ladies there weren’t as nice about letting her write to Bucky. She wrote the new address of the home on the paper, and told Bucky to write her back soon. Bucky smiled at that, and maybe his eyes were watering a little bit, but Steve and his mom pretended not to notice.

Eventually Bucky had to go back to the orphanage, but not before he and Steve helped Mrs. Rogers make an applesauce cake, with chocolate icing and everything. She rewarded them both with big slices of it, and she and Steve walked him back to the home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

1938

Steve is _pissed off._

It’s Christmas for Christ sake, and what is he doing? Stuck in bed with a cold and a pounding head, that’s what. Steve is used to the ridiculous amount of times he gets sick in the year, especially during the winter, but this December had been the worst that he’d had in all the 20 years that he’s lived. This is the second time in just this month that Steve has been confined to his bed, it wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the headache. He wanted to at least be able to draw something, since he hadn’t been feeling well enough in the past few days to go out and buy Bucky the new shoes that Steve’s been saving for. He had wanted to draw a picture for his friend, since it was one of their few Christmas traditions, started when Steve had been no older than 12.

Bucky had heated up some soup for Steve to eat before leaving their matchbox apartment an hour ago, to get medicine for Steve, he’d said. Steve knows that Bucky always goes to the corner store a block away to get his medicine, because sometimes the old man who works there takes pity on Bucky when he has to count out pennies to pay for the stuff and gives it to him for whatever change he’s poured out on the counter. It may be Christmas, but the man had always opted to stay open on holidays, to make some extra money and help those who were in a pinch. It usually took Bucky about 20 minutes to go there and back, maybe an extra ten when he stopped to talk with a pretty dame or an old friend. Steve was beginning to think that Bucky hadn’t just gone out for medicine, when the door burst open and the pounded of Bucky’s feet on the creaky floorboards could be heard.

“Stevie! You awake, I got the medicine. Even got it for less than usual, since it’s Christmas and all.” Bucky’s footsteps are becoming slightly louder, and Steve can see the door to their shared bedroom open out of the corner of his eye. Steve’s lying on his side facing the wall, with blankets up to his shoulders. His nose is clogged, his head is pounding, and his cheeks are wet. Steve blinks, to make sure that he isn’t crying without even knowing, but no, he is not crying, and his face is wet for no apparent reason.

Well, Steve supposes the dog sitting no more than two inches from his face might have something to do with it.

“Mmph” Steve makes a disgruntled noise as the dog leans in and licks the tip of his nose. Steve can make out the sound of Bucky laughing over the dog’s happy panting. “Bucky,” Steve sits up and the dog jumps excitedly. “Whose dog is this?” Bucky pulls the dog off the bed, handing Steve a brown paper bag that has his medicine inside.

“Nobody’s, well, I guess it’s our now. Merry Christmas, Stevie.” Steve stares down at the dog, and now that it’s sitting a proper distance away from his face, he can actually tell what it looks like. It’s skinny, and dirty, and there’s a chunk taken out of his ear. But his smile is big and even though he’s missing some teeth, Steve thinks he actually isn’t the ugliest dog that he ever laid eyes on.

“Found ‘em in the alleyway behind the bakery, just sitting there shivering in the snow. Couldn’t just leave him there,” Bucky leans down and scratches behind the dogs ear, the whole one, and the dog pants even more in agreement. “Knew you always wanted a dog when we were kids, but your ma was allergic to ‘em.” Bucky continues, “Guess I thought he’d make a good Christmas present. There was a lady at the corner store when I went, buying apples. She said he’s a border terrier, her son used to have one. Says they don’t need much food, just take him outside a couple times a week.” Steve smiles at the dog, but there’s sadness in his eyes. The poor thing has probably been on the streets most of its life, ever since the depression hit, lots of people let their dogs or puppies loose on the street. Dog food was expensive and nobody could afford to feed them, especially when they had a whole bunch of puppies.

“He’s real nice, Buck. But we can’t keep him.” He opens up the medicine bottle and takes a sip of the liquid, wincing at the bitter taste.

“Sure we can Stevie, just feed him table scraps. All you hafta do is take him on walks. I’ll give him baths and everything,” Bucky picks the dog up, shoving him in Steve’s face so that he can lick at Steve’s cheeks some more. “C’mon Steve, how can you say no to such a good looking fella?” Steve scoots away from the dog until his back is hitting the wall.

“You got a big head don’t you? Ever since that Daisy girl said you looked like some movie star over in Europe.” Bucky laughs, shoving the dog closer.

“I was talkin’ about the dog, you punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve replies instantly, “If we’re goanna keep him, we need to pick out a real good name. Can’t have the other dogs making fun of him for being named after the worst president or something” Steve smirks, and Bucky sets the dog down on the bed, glaring at him. Before Steve can see it coming, Bucky has a pillow in his hand and it hitting Steve’s bony arm with it. “Ah, fine! You win, we can keep the dumb dog. You gotta pick the name, though.” Bucky sets the pillow down and puts his hand on his chin, like he’s thinking really hard about what to name the dog.

“I dunno, he kind of looks like that old man who  used to like next door, with the grey hair and all. What was his name?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “The Polish one? You aren’t naming that dog Mr. Golabieska, Bucky.”

“No, no. Not that.” Bucky agrees, “What was his first name? Randy?”

“Russell, Buck. His first name was Russell. Told me one time that his real name was too hard for anybody to pronounce, so he just picked a name he liked and went by it.”

“Yes!” Bucky snaps his fingers and the dog turns to look at him. “Russell, that’s what we’ll call him. What do you think Russell, think that sounds good?” He leans over and pats the dogs head, and Russell wags his tail in excitement.  

Russell ended up being a good dog, for the few years that he’d lived with Steve and Bucky in their tiny apartment. He would always bark whenever Bucky came through the front door, but other than that he hardly made a sound. He liked apples and hated lettuce, and at one point Steve thought he was a vegetarian, because Steve had offered him a piece of chicken and the dog had taken zero interest in it. Bucky said that he just knew which foods weren’t real expensive, and decided to eat those and leave the good stuff for them. When Bucky got drafted and Steve signed up for the experiment, he gave Russell to the little girl who lived next door with her mom and older brother. She said that when they’d won the war and come back home that she would give him back, that she was just watching him for Steve. Steve told her that as long as she took good care of him, she could keep him forever. He supposes that she must’ve loved Russell a lot, and taken care of him until the day he died, since Steve never got the dog back.

 

 

* * *

 

 1943

Steve’s never really associated snow with Italy, thinking more about Rome and all the history the country had to offer. He’d always wanted to be here, but he thinks that he might’ve liked to sketch the coliseum with his head in Bucky’s lap, instead of fighting a war in the dead of winter. Don’t get him wrong, Steve is happy to serve his country any day of the week, but lately it’s been tough for all of the Commandos, who aren’t like him and Bucky, who have family at home that they should be spending the holidays with. Not here, in Italy, fighting a war in a foot of snow.

They’re in between missions right now, waiting for the snow to stop falling from the sky and start melting off the ground instead. After raiding a small HYDRA base a few miles south, they managed to trek through the snow and spent the night in an abandoned house. Some of the windows were blown out and there wasn’t any running water, but it had a stable roof and was easy to defend. Finding somewhere decent to stay had brightened everybody’s mood last night, but now, waking up on Christmas morning, they’ve all gone back to their distressed state. It was worse that they were away from camp, because at least there they would have had the possibility to get some letters at mail call. Instead they were eating beans out of a can and playing cards.

“Morning Stevie” Bucky rolled over and gave his boyfriend a lazy smile. The Commandos were a lot more accepting of their relationship than both Steve and Bucky could’ve ever imagined, although Steve secretly would’ve preferred that the team didn’t know what they did, in fear that something important might be given away during an interrogation or even just a simple conversation. “Merry Christmas,” Steve let out a short laugh, stretching his arms above his head.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. Bet you never thought you’d spend it fighting a war in Italy, huh?” Steve leaned over to give Bucky a quick kiss before he began digging through his backpack in search of some clean clothes. "Should probably write the mission report from yesterday. Won't get it back to base for a while, but we might as well do it while everything is still fresh in our minds. How many bullets did you use yesterday?" Steve pulls a thin t-shirt over his head and tugs on his leather jacket. It's the warmest thing he's got, besides the uniform, which is only for missions.

"Seven, I think. I can re-count later to make sure. I should have enough left for about two more missions." Bucky rubbed at his eyes, sitting up and pulling the blanket with him. "Are the others awake yet? I'm starving, goanna see if I can find some food in this place that doesn't have mold growin' on it yet."

Later, after they'd all eaten breakfast and packed up their stuff, the Hiwling Commandos were at a loss. It had snowed hard over the night, too much for them to really make it any closer to base, so they had all elected to spend the night at the house once more. They played cards until everyone had run out of different games to play, so now that had put on all of their warmest clothes and gone outside to stand in the snow. They'd initally planned to check the perimeters of the house, make sure everything was secure, but soon their surveillance had turned into a snowball fight that had lasted for hours.

At nightfall, they had finished their perimeter check and gone back inside to eat beans out of a can and share stories like they always did, whenever given the time. Steve and Bucky had offered to take the first watch, while the rest of the Commandos rolled out their sleeping mats and attempted to get some well-deserved rest. They had been roaming the upper story if the house when Bucky had discovered a dusty record player in the corner of a small bedroom.

"You think it still works?" He asked Steve, running his fingers over it to see how much dust collected on them.

"Maybe," Steve bent down next to the stand and pulled a cardboard box from underneath it. Here's some old records, think there's anything we would know?" As it turned out, there was a slightly scratched copy of the same Glenn Miller album they had back in their small Brooklyn apartment. Bucky carefully put the record into place, and put the needle down. The record wasn't smooth in the least bit, but the song was recognizable to the both of them and brought up a certain nostalgic feel.

"May I have this dance?" Bucky made a show of bowing in front of Steve, his hand held out for Steve to take. As they began to slowly dance around the room, Steve set his head on Bucky's shoulder.

"Feels weird dancing like this," Bucky remarked "Never danced with somebody taller than me. Never woulda guessed that the person would be you, either." Steve chuckled.

"Buck?" He asked after a moment, pulling his head up to look his boyfriend in the eye. "Do you think... Do you think you'd be happy? If this was our last Christmas together?" The needle goes off track, and Bucky has to stop dancing for a minute to fix it. They're halfway through another song before he replies.

"What do you mean, Stevie? You breakin' up with me or something?" He jokes,

"Nah Buck, I'm being serious. What if one of us, or both of us, dies? I mean, we are fighting in a war and everything. Would you be happy with this being your last Christmas? Holed up in some house with a bunch of guys you didn't know a year ago?"

"Stevie," they've stopped dancing now, are staring at each other with their hands still held together. "Course I'd be happy. May not be the perfect day but I'm spending it with you, aren't I? Wish we were safe back in Brooklyn, of course, but it could be so much worse Stevie." Bucky smiled and leaned up to kiss Steve. It was gentle, and Bucky couldn't help but get hung up on how soft Steve's lips always were, compared to his own, which were almost always a little chapped. "So much worse" he whispered against Steve's lips.

A week and three days later, they zip line onto a speeding train. When Steve is sitting in the blown out bar afterwards, all he can think about is the last Christmas he ever spent with the only truly important person left in his life.

 

 

* * *

 

2011

It was Steve's first Christmas in 70 years, and he was spending it alone.

Sure, he'd gotten invitations from various avengers and SHEILD agents to some Christmas parties, but none were on the actual day and besides, it just didn't feel right to spend Christmas without Bucky or his mother. For Steve's entire life he'd spent the holiday with one of them, but he had watched his mother be buried in a small cemetery decades ago and Bucky had an empty grave at Arlington. Steve had told everyone who asked that he wanted to spend the day alone, with some peace and quiet at his half furnished SHIELD issued apartment in D.C. It wasn't what Steve considered home, but it was the closest thing he had, and maybe if he got a healthy Christmas tree and put some ornaments on it, he would begin to feel the Christmas spirit.

It was Christmas Eve, and Steve had gone to the music store down the street to pick up on old Christmas record to play on the old Westington that he'd found buried in some thrift store. He'd even gone so far as to buy small presents for all the Avengers, although he still hadn't decided if he wanted to mail them or hand them out at their next meeting. Steve had managed to get all his errands ran and was on his way back to his lonely apartment by four o'clock. It had started to snow and less people were populating the sidewalks because of it, putting Steve in a better mood. He was lost in the memories of past Christmases when he accidentally walked into someone from behind.

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am." He mourned, noticing that the women had a large white dog sitting by her feet.

"You're fine, didn't hurt a thing." The woman turned and smiled at Steve, and the dog followed her, his tail wagging softly.

"That's a very obedient dog you've got there." Steve couldn't help but make the comment. Despite looking nothing like the scruffy terrier, the dog reminded him of Russell, in the way it would get a little happier every time someone spoke.

"Oh, thank you. He's a therapy dog. Having him around has really helped with my depression. It's amazing how much good a dog can do when you let them." She leaned over and scratched the dogs head.

Steve had heard about therapy dogs, read about them on the internet after his SHIELD appointed therapist had mentioned how helpful they could be. Although any anti-depressants wouldn't provide much help, his SHIELD medical doctor had insisted that Steve speak with a therapist.

"What you've got is something we call survivor's guilt," The therapist, Mrs. Nolan, had told him during their second meeting. "It causes depression very easily and can lead to anxiety or panic attacks if not treated properly." They'd talked for hours about the signs of everything she had diagnosed him with. It was a weird feeling for Steve, because growing up depression wasn't something you could get medicine or help for, it seemed as though everybody had it, what with the weak economy and the two World Wars that had happened. But this woman told him that depression and survivor's guilt were two very real problems that needed to be addressed.

"A therapy dog?" His eyes scanned the dog before meeting hers again. "My therapist has wanted me to get one, except I wouldn't even know where to look."

"They have adoption days for therapy dogs and cats down at the VA every Monday." She smiled "You should come by, see if you make a connection with any of them." Steve took a moment to consider her suggestion. Maybe having an animal around would make his quiet apartment feel livelier.

"Thank you," He shook the woman's hand, "Happy holidays" he shouted back at her as he continued on his way home.

Christmas Day passed in a blur. Steve stayed inside and watched old Christmas movies. He drank hot chocolate and actually attempted to make a nice meal for dinner (It didn't turn out the best, but it didn't give him food poisoning, so Steve guesses he did okay). On the 26th he went to the Smithsonian, to catch up on things that he had missed and sketch some of the planes in the NASM. Surprisingly, nobody recognized him as Captain America, which Steve supposed was a good thing, considering he didn't really feel up to talking to anyone that day.

Come Monday, Steve had decided to at least visit the VA, just to look at all the animals and the people, he'd told himself. He still wasn't sure if getting a dog, even a trained therapy dog, would be a good thing. He wasn't certain how often he would be gone on missions for SHIELD, and the last thing he wanted to do was leave the poor thing by itself more often than not.

"Hello!" A man who looked to be in his twenties greeted Steve, giving him a pamphlet as he walked through the door. "Are you looking to adopt a therapy dog? We have cats too, if you aren't too keen on dogs." Steve took a second to look around the room. He had never been inside the VA, but he had to admit that it was bigger than he thought. The main room, as well as adjacent halls and rooms were filled with all sorts of people and animals. Not only were there dogs and cats, but Steve could see birds in another room.

"Dogs, maybe? My therapist told me that having a dog would help with my depression, but I haven't really done much research on therapy dogs." The man led him to a room near the back of the building, where a lot of people were sitting on the floor with dogs. Most of the dogs in this room were quiet but happy, and as far as Steve could tell, none of them were very small.

"Have you ever owned a dog before?" The man asked him

"Once," Steve replied, remembering Russell "It was a long time ago, though. He was a border terrier."

"We don't have any border terriers trained for depression, sadly. But we do have a variety of other breeds. Take a look around, see if you connect with any of them. If you'd like to make an adoption, Elizabeth up front can help you fill out the paperwork." The man smiled at Steve once more, before leaving the room.

Steve stood in the doorway for a moment, watching all the people interacting with dogs and each other. It made him a little anxious, but he forced himself to walk around and pet some of the dogs. Most were labs or golden retrievers, but in towards the back were some different breeds. One dog in particular, that looked as though it was a husky golden retriever mix, with black and grey fur. She looked much calmer than the rest of the dogs, her head was laying on her front laws and nobody seemed to be paying her much attention. When Steve sat down next to her and began to run his hands through the soft fur, her tail began to wag.

"This is Sophia," A worker told him, sitting down and running her hand over Sophia's back. "She used to be an army dog. Served one tour in Afghanistan before she was trained as a therapy dog. Very quiet, but pretty friendly too. Are you thinking of adopting?"

Steve took a moment to consider his answer. "Yeah, I think a dog might do me some good. Do I just go talk to the woman up front? Fill out the applications?" The woman nodded and led him to the front desk, where Steve signed the required papers and promised that he would take good care of Sophia.

"C'mon, Soph" Steve said as he led Sophia out the door gently tugging on her leash. "Let's go home."

Sophia was a fantastic dog. She reminded him of Bucky, because like he had been, Sophia was Steve's anchor whenever he got too upset to focus or became too sad to accomplish anything for the day. Maybe he would have to leave her in the care of someone else every once in a while whenever he had to go on missions, but Steve figured it was worth all the help Sophia gave him.

* * *

 

2014

 

After everything that happened in D.C., Steve had moved back to New York, more specifically Brooklyn. SHIELD was based out of Manhattan now, and Tony had given Steve permission to use any of the tech at the Tower to help him search for Bucky. He's been searching for his lost friend and dismantling what was left of HYDRA since the events in May, over seven months ago, and has pretty much come up empty handed. Back in October he'd run finally caught up with Bucky in Romania, of all places, and had gotten a small conversation out of him.

"I'll come back when I'm ready, Rogers." He'd promised, "Just need some time by myself to sort through everything in here." Bucky had told him, pointing at his head with his metal fingers. Steve had nodded, understanding but upset. Bucky must've felt a little sorry for him, because Steve had found a file full of HYDRA base locations back in the U.S. sitting on his bed when he'd gone back to the hotel.

Come November, Steve had already knocked out half of the places on the list, and Sam had insisted that he take a break and enjoy the holidays. He'd reluctantly agreed, picked up Sophia from Sam's house (And he felt bad leaving her without him for so long, he could hardly stand it) and returned to his apartment in D.C. As soon as he had walked through the door. Steve had convinced himself to move back to New York. The place had never felt like much of a home to Steve, so he rented a tiny but nice apartment in Brooklyn and filled it with furniture he had found in antique stores.

Now it was Christmas morning, and Steve was wrapping presents, softly singing along to all the classic songs. Tony had insisted that all the Avengers meet up on Christmas night to exchange gifts and simply spend the holiday together. Steve was confident that he had picked out the perfect gift for each of his friends, and the biggest trouble he was having was that he couldn't properly fold the wrapping paper and keep it there while he put the tape on. All of his presents looked a little wrinkled, but he was still proud of them.

Sophia, who had been dozing curled up next to Steve on the floor, suddenly perked up and barked once at the door. Steve stood right as the knock came. One of the helpful things about having Soph around was that she had been an army dog, so she helped Steve feel safe and could predict whenever somebody was at a door or window in a split second. As he walked to the door, Steve eyed the clock hanging on the wall. Sam was coming over around noon to pick him up, because apparently it was a tradition of his to go eat pizza at some specific restaurant on Christmas, and this year he had decided to drag Steve along with him. However it was barely even nine o'clock, so Steve was fairly confident that Sam wasn't at the door. Soph trotted along behind him, clearly not too concerned with whoever their guest might be, but when Steve opened the door she retreated back into the living room.

"Bucky" Steve stared in awe at his friend, standing right here in front of him. He looked worse than when Steve had last seen him, clearly he had lost some weight and judging by his hair it had been a while since he had access to a shower. "Come on in," Steve finally managed to get over his shock and stepped to the side so that Bucky could come into the apartment.

"Hi," Bucky's voice was quiet and sounded awfully weak, which only added to the concern Steve had growing inside of him. It was clear that Bucky had been too preoccupied with other things to take care of himself, but Steve quickly made a promise to himself that the problem would soon be remedied.

"You hungry?" He asked, leading Bucky into the kitchen. Bucky quickly nods his head and his eyes get real big, so Steve starts to pull out all the ingredients he needs to make pancakes. He finds some blueberries in the fridge and is carefully stirring them into the batter when he looks up to see Bucky scratching behind Soph's ears at the kitchen table.

"I remember," Bucky had blurted out as he covered his pancakes in syrup, "That Christmas when I snuck out of the orphanage to spend the day with you and your mother. Got a letter from my sister, too. What was her name?"

"Becca," Steve tells him quietly, "That was one of the best Christmases I ever had." Bucky nods his head and pulls more pancakes onto his plate.

"I remember the last Christmas we spent together too, before- before everything happened. We, we were stuck in an old house somewhere in Europe and you, and I. We were. We were dating, we kissed."

Steve sighs, he knew this would eventually come up, but he was hoping it could have been prevented for a little while longer. "Yeah Buck, we did. But listen, just cause we felt that way about each other back then doesn't mean we gotta be that way now. You aren't hurting my feelings." Bucky takes a moment to stare at him, and his eyes get big again and Steve worries that there might be something wrong before he says,

"Steve Rogers, you have grown dumber as you've aged." And suddenly he's leaned over the table and Steve is being kissed. Bucky tastes like blueberries and syrup, sweet and a little sour and Steve can't get enough of it. They kiss until Soph begins to whine from the lack of attention she's been getting, and they reluctantly pull apart to finish breakfast.

They've got a thousand different things to talk about, but Steve insists that they curl up on the couch and watch Christmas movies that came out after they had been gone. Bucky likes the Grinch but Steve thinks the animation is a little creepy, and greatly prefers A Christmas Story, which is one that Sam and Natasha have both been insisting he had to watch. Steve was not disappointed, and he and Bucky had both laughed when the boy had imagined shooting thieves with his Red Ryder. In between Home Alone and Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Steve gets a text from Sam saying 'Should I bring you two grandpas some pizza or are you living off of canned soup and your sorry excuse for cooking?'

Steve looks over at Bucky, with his flesh hand curled in Soph's fur, smiling as some guy gives another $75 dollars for a taxi. His reply back to Sam reads, 'Nah, no pizza needed here. Think we are doing just fine on our own.'

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated :) 
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr! anolty.tumblr.com


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